Taipei Times: Why did you begin a career in Beijing opera?
Wu Hsing-kuo: My family was quite poor and as I had quite a good voice my mother decided to send me to an opera academy. The teaching methods were harsh, with much scolding and beating ... At 12 years old, I was slightly older than most new students. From the time I entered the school, I studied the role of the “martial male.” The teachers encouraged me [in my studies] but the main thing was that here we were enclosed and didn’t know very much about the outside world.
TT: How did you create Contemporary Legend Theater?
Wu: In my final year at the theater academy I had the opportunity to study at the National Culture University, in their drama department. Here we studied Western literature, like Shakespeare and the Greek tragic poets. We learned about the theory of these dramas, but had no experience of actual performance. It was not until my second year that I joined Cloud Gate Theatre (雲門舞集). This was the first time I really experienced Western-style performance. To me, Cloud Gate performs very much in the Western style, it’s all ballet or contemporary dance. It is certainly not traditional [Chinese opera]. But in the early days when Lin [Hwai-min, 林懷民] came back to Taiwan, he wanted to incorporate elements of Chinese traditional movement and stories [into his dance] ... He was looking for someone trained in traditional performance to work with him. This experience showed me new ways of using the stage and the space around the performer.
TT: Why did you persevere with Beijing opera?
Wu: At the time [when Wu was a young opera school graduate] there were still a few opera companies owned by the armed services, but even they were closing one by one. When I graduated, only four remained. When doing military service, I was posted to the Army [Luguang] opera troupe (陸光國劇團). [At this time, Wu met the famous opera singer Chou Cheng-rung (周正榮), who expressed a high regard for Wu’s talent.] I told Chou that Beijing opera was in decline and I had decided to join Cloud Gate and become a dancer. That’s where I saw my future. He kept on telling me that the real essence of beauty and skill in Chinese art was encompassed in Beijing opera ... Eventually, I decided to become his disciple and study the “mature male” role under his tutelage. The first thing he did was insist that I stop any involvement in modern dance. I remained in the Army opera troupe for 13 years. If I hadn’t studied with him, I would never have been able to establish Contemporary Legend Theater.
TT: What inspired you to start innovating within Beijing opera?
Wu: As a member of the Army opera troupe, we had new opera competitions every year. We were always looking for new material. Macbeth (慾望城國), which was the first opera produced by Contemporary Legend Theater, was originally meant for competition. It was rejected by my superiors because it used a “foreign” story. So I said to myself, for the future of us young performers, we needed to break out [from the constraints of a hidebound opera establishment]. We would use Beijing opera, but use it to discover new potential and new directions. Only in this way would [Beijing opera] be able to draw a younger audience. I started recruiting young performers from other opera schools. We would step outside the establishment. If this production [Macbeth] worked, new worlds of material would be opened up to us. [Macbeth, was performed at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, in 1991, and as they say, the rest is history.]
June 2 to June 8 Taiwan’s woodcutters believe that if they see even one speck of red in their cooked rice, no matter how small, an accident is going to happen. Peng Chin-tian (彭錦田) swears that this has proven to be true at every stop during his decades-long career in the logging industry. Along with mining, timber harvesting was once considered the most dangerous profession in Taiwan. Not only were mishaps common during all stages of processing, it was difficult to transport the injured to get medical treatment. Many died during the arduous journey. Peng recounts some of his accidents in
“Why does Taiwan identity decline?”a group of researchers lead by University of Nevada political scientist Austin Wang (王宏恩) asked in a recent paper. After all, it is not difficult to explain the rise in Taiwanese identity after the early 1990s. But no model predicted its decline during the 2016-2018 period, they say. After testing various alternative explanations, Wang et al argue that the fall-off in Taiwanese identity during that period is related to voter hedging based on the performance of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). Since the DPP is perceived as the guardian of Taiwan identity, when it performs well,
The Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) on May 18 held a rally in Taichung to mark the anniversary of President William Lai’s (賴清德) inauguration on May 20. The title of the rally could be loosely translated to “May 18 recall fraudulent goods” (518退貨ㄌㄨㄚˋ!). Unlike in English, where the terms are the same, “recall” (退貨) in this context refers to product recalls due to damaged, defective or fraudulent merchandise, not the political recalls (罷免) currently dominating the headlines. I attended the rally to determine if the impression was correct that the TPP under party Chairman Huang Kuo-Chang (黃國昌) had little of a
At Computex 2025, Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang (黃仁勳) urged the government to subsidize AI. “All schools in Taiwan must integrate AI into their curricula,” he declared. A few months earlier, he said, “If I were a student today, I’d immediately start using tools like ChatGPT, Gemini Pro and Grok to learn, write and accelerate my thinking.” Huang sees the AI-bullet train leaving the station. And as one of its drivers, he’s worried about youth not getting on board — bad for their careers, and bad for his workforce. As a semiconductor supply-chain powerhouse and AI hub wannabe, Taiwan is seeing